


What Was Right Is Wrong

by Umbrellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble, F/M, Gen, it's a little sad just warning you, post 2x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrellamy/pseuds/Umbrellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would recognize his form anywhere. She couldn't not after everything they had been through together. It didn't matter that his body, locked in a cage on the opposite side of the room, was crumpled, his skin unnaturally pale.</p><p>Or Clarke finds Bellamy when the army storms Mount Weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Was Right Is Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I was having post 2x10 feelings and this is what happened I'm sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Title from Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons because I love irony.

          It had taken a few hours to get the army into mount weather. But it only took a few seconds for all hell to break loose.

People were screaming. There were bodies everywhere, fighting, trying to flee. And Clarke didn’t care about a single one of them. All that mattered now was defeating Mount Weather and rescuing her people, whatever the cost. Octavia would find Lincon, she would find Bellamy, that was the plan. It would be worth it if they were successful.

So Clarke didn’t look at the faces as she made her way through the chaos.

          "You will release my people first." Lexa had said, "The Mountain Men will have no more of our blood running through their veins." Clarke had quickly agreed, it was more than likely the 47 were being held in the same place, and even if they weren’t, logically speaking, it made sense to get Lexa’s people out of the cages. The more man power to fight, the better. If they even wanted a chance at victory, they would need the other half of their army, no matter how weak they were. She would radio in when she found the captive grounders, and Raven would send extra hands to help her free them. 

Clarke slipped past the destruction as quickly as she could. A few turns, a flight of stairs, she found the room where they had kept Anya and the others instantaneously. It’s funny how adrenalin scorches certain images into your brain.

Clarke remembered he room perfectly, her eyes landing on the cage Anya had once been locked inside. She thought having seen Lexa’s people caged up like animals before would soften the blow of how _wrong_ the whole situation was. It didn’t.

The walkie talkie crackled to life in her hand. “We found them!” Raven’s voice rang out into the room. “They’re all here, all 47.” A wave of relief washed over Clarke’s body. She could finally bring her people home.

“What about Bellamy? Is he with them?”

She knew the answer before the reply left Raven’s lips.

“No, we haven’t seen him yet.”

But Clarke had. She would recognize his form anywhere. She couldn’t not after everything they had been through together. It didn’t matter that his body, locked in a cage on the opposite side of the room, was crumpled, his skin unnaturally pale. She couldn't move; she couldn't breathe. That wasn't Bellamy. In no conceivable realm of her mind could Bellamy Blake, someone so undeniably _alive,_ be so broken.  She almost didn't notice the make-shift radio slipping from her hand, until the sound of it breaking back into its original pieces startled her out of the shock. 

"No." Without conscious thought, Clarke’s feet brought her body to where he lay, shaking hands picking the lock, swinging open the cage.

This was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to be by her side, fighting with her, they were supposed to be working together. Getting her people back- getting _their_ people back.

Clarke fell to her knees outside the cage that held the last person she would ever let herself truly love.

“Bellamy!” It was a command, as she rolled his half naked body on its back so he would face her. So he could see her when he opened his eyes. So he would see her when he joined her again. “No no no no no no. No.”

He was too still. A tremor ran violently through Clarke’s hands as she placed two fingers on his pulse point, unable to find a heartbeat. She straddled his colorless body and pressed on his chest rhythmically, she had to try - even though she doubted there was any blood left to circulate, she couldn’t just give up on him like this. Bellamy was strong. He would push through, despite the punctures on his inner elbow, the evidence of his stolen life. Compression after compression after compression and nothing changed.

Clarke pounded on his pallid chest one last time before allowing her hands to still. “God dammit Bellamy!” She bent her head and let the silent sobs wash over her body.

They had taken his blood and thrown him back in that cage like a rag doll.

          This was all her fault. She was the one who had sent him here; she had put this plan before Bellamy’s life, and he was the one to suffer the consequences.

Clarke tried to slow her panicked breaths as she climbed off of the broken body of the boy who had stood stoically by her side to protect the 100, her co-leader, her partner, her friend.

She thought it had been worth the risk. That caring so much was weakness - that if she let him go she was being strong. That couldn't have been more misconstrued. She crawled to the side of the cage and sat behind the ashen boy’s head. As she lifted his curl covered scalp into her lap and stroked his colorless cheek, Clarke realized that her love for her people, for the 47, for Bellamy, was what gave her strength. And taking that away is what would make her weak.

Clarke rested her forehead on his, her hair cloaking them from the malevolent world around, “Please come back to me,” she whispered into his skin. “please, I can’t,” Her tears ran down Bellamy’s face as if they were his own, as sobs wracked Clarke’s body. “I can’t do this without you. You can’t just die on me, dammit. You can’t die on us. We need you.”

And for the first time since her father was floated, Clarke let her sorrows consume her body. She cried for the ones of the 100 that had been lost, for Wells, for Finn. For all the abuse and misery that earth had brought her. And for the fact she wouldn’t trade any of it for anything but the dead. She cried for Bellamy, because he was the only thing that had been holding her together, the only thing protecting her from the sadness. And now he was gone.

Clarke cleared her throat and straightened her neck, but her tears never ceased. Bellamy would want her to face this, he would want her to be brave - to be strong.

“Your fight is over. In peace, may you leave the shore,” her voice cracked, this shouldn’t have been the end. He deserved better than this. “In love may you find the next. Safe passage on your travels, until our final journey to the ground.”

If she was sure of one thing, it was that Bellamy Blake had simply been too good for the horrors of earth. “May we meet again.”

Clarke shifted and gently removed his head from her lap, tears still streaming from her eyes. She clambered towards the door of the cage, wiping the tears from her face and the snot from her nose. Looking back one last time she ran her hand down his pallid face and took a deep breath, willing away the tears.

It was time to lead her people. She couldn’t afford to be weak now.

But as she turned to leave the broken body behind her, she caught a glimpse of dulled brown eyes flickering under weak lids. And a breathy inaudible whisper from bloodless lips.

"Clarke."

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to let him die, I really was but Bellamy just wouldn't go out that easily. Also I've never posted any of my writing before please be gentle with me.


End file.
